


Smiles and Masks

by midnight_marimba



Series: Salty Stallion Sojourns [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Awkward Exes, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pining, Poly, good feelings not guaranteed, pansexual Sylvando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21777727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_marimba/pseuds/midnight_marimba
Summary: Dave tries really hard to just be friends when Sylvando falls for someone else.
Relationships: Dave/Sylvia | Sylvando
Series: Salty Stallion Sojourns [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569454
Kudos: 12





	Smiles and Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the years between [Smiles for Zwaardsrust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775600) and the start of the game.
> 
> Technically this fic should work as a standalone, but it arguably contains spoilers for the first half of [Diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863968/chapters/44773171) and may possibly contain baffling narrative choices if you don’t have the context of Diamond.
> 
> Content warning for...relationship drama? (I think that's the most specific warning I can come up with without spoilers.)

“I want you to think of this as your final test. If I see you on the other side, and you still haven’t touched him, I’ll believe you next time you tell me you’re mine.”

“Ah. That’s all it takes? Are you sure you don’t want to choose a more dramatic quest for me to prove my devotion? I could climb Mount Huji looking for flowers. I could fight a dragon for you.”

“Scamp. Don’t try and weasel out of my test.”

“Of course not, mi cariño. I’m certain I’ll astonish you with my capacity for doing nothing.”

“Good. Go on, amore. Don’t be late for your big show. I’ll be on the next ship, a couple days behind you. As soon as I’m done with my big show.”

“Yes, corazón. I’ll look forward to the day we meet again, like a flower waits for the dawn.”

Dave pretended not to hear the pair, and he busied himself with shifting some ropes that didn’t need to be moved. “Oi, there you are, Sylv,” he said when the younger man appeared on board the ship. “All set?”

“Hello, Dave. I’m ready as I’m going to be.” Sylvando’s smile lacked its usual intensity when he glanced at Dave, and he kept the smile but closed his eyes for a moment before nodding once and adding, “What do you want me to do?”

“Everything’s ready to go. Why don’t you take the helm, and I’ll take the rest of it.”

Sylvando nodded and took a running start to vault up over the railing to the upper deck instead of taking the stairs, which was nothing new, but Dave watched him do it anyway, and he had to force himself to look away and attend to the business of casting off.

  


* * *

  


Dinner.

“Must be hard to leave her behind. You’ve been thick as thieves this month.” Dave managed a cheerful tone, but he took his time dishing out the stew. Stalling. Trying to convince himself he still remembered how to cover up his emotions without the mask.

“Dave, sit down and eat. I’m starting to think you’re trying to stay in the mask all night.”

Dave shook his head, deliberately relaxed his face into an amused smile, and pulled off the offending garment. “And miss the chance to eat somebody else’s cooking? Not likely.”

“Ah, now I know why you still want me on your ship.”

“It’s still your ship, Sylv. That’s not going to change. Well? Tell me some more about her. Still on track for a dozen fat babies?”

Evidently, he’d hit the mark for friendly, nosy interest, because Sylvando studied his face for a moment and then smiled down at his stew. “I really think she’s the one, Dave. She’s amazing. Working with her on stage is like a dream. She’s graceful and beautiful and her voice, well, you’ve met her, but when she’s working the crowd she has a way of speaking that just pulls them in. Maybe it’s not just on the stage. It works pretty well on me other times, too. Oh, and you should see her when the little girls come up to her. They’re all star struck, but she’s so, so sweet with them.”

The knack of it was definitely coming back to him now. He’d had years of practice as a navy captain, after all, cracking jokes and distracting his men from the worries and sorrows they all shared, even when he didn’t feel like it. So it wasn’t that hard to smile and nod along, instead of flinching at each descriptor that illustrated Dave’s own lacks. Instead of pointedly adding to the list: “possessive”.

He'd first seen them kissing months ago, and he’d smiled at them from behind his mask, amused and pleased as he always was when he saw Sylvando getting to live out the romantic gestures he loved in public. Teased him over dinner, and told him to go see her again, more than once. 

He probably should have registered the warning sign after he’d run into them in the market, and Sylvando formally introduced her to him, liberally praised her singing, and prompted her to give Dave a sample. She’d eyed Dave up and down, given him a gracious smile, and sang a verse from her favorite ballad, beginning with the lines: “Although a hundred maidens asked him for his favor / He held no room in his heart save for her.”

He’d always known that it was likely Sylvando would someday want to commit to someone else and start a family with them. He approved of the plan, in an abstract, philosophical sense. Children made him deeply uneasy, with their unpredictability, fragility, and general uselessness, but he treasured the idea of Sylvando having grown children someday. Especially since he’d learned that Sylvando’s mother had come from Zwaardsrust. He knew Sylvando would let him tell them something about their heritage someday, when they were old enough to appreciate it.

But then there was the night three weeks ago, when Sylvando came to see him with a peculiar mix of energy and hesitation, fell into his bed laughing, and apologized an hour later. “I didn’t mean for tonight to go this way,” he’d said. “I'm thinking of asking to court her, and I imagine you’ve guessed she’s not going to be inclined to share.”

Somehow, Dave hadn’t put the pieces together in time to be prepared for it to actually happen. So his heart had gone numb with the shock of it, and he’d reflexively murmured something approximating acceptance, and he’d felt nothing at all while the only person he’d loved for the past four years apologized again, kissed him for the last time, and slipped out of his room.

  


* * *

  


A sunny morning.

Dave leaned on the wheel. It was easy sailing, with smooth waters and a favorable wind, so he could have tied a rope to hold it steady, but it gave him an excuse to stand and watch Sylvando at his daily practice.

Today it was practice with a whip. Sylvando took some practice swings, then brought out a sack of wood and took his time standing up little bits of driftwood along the railing to use as targets. Then he set about knocking each one off the railing with a crack of the whip. He missed a few of the targets, but he only smiled and tried again.

After Sylvando finished the set, he turned and called, “Dave? Do you think we have a bit of old sailcloth? I wanted to work on grabbing an object at range, and I think the railing would work for the target, but I don’t want to scuff it up, so I thought I should look for a cover to protect it.”

Dave took a moment to answer, distracted by that “we”. It suggested that Sylvando still thought of the two of them as...something. Crew? A team? Family? None of those quite smoothed over the constant awareness of what they weren’t anymore, but any of them was better than nothing.

He forced himself to focus. “Aye, we’ve some scraps of canvas set aside for patchwork. Should be more than we’ll need for any kind of emergency I can think of, and we can mend them if they tear, anyway.”

He tied the wheel so he could help Sylvando set up the new target, then quietly returned to man the helm again while the performer resumed his practice, sending the end of the whip curling around and around the railing so it stayed in place when he tugged it taut.

Dave held as still as possible, trying not to call attention to the fact that today he was watching even more intently than he customarily did. He drank in Sylvando’s movements, the graceful lines of him, the swift and sure motion of his arms, the tiny pleased nods when he hit his target the way he intended. Looking at him, admiring him, loving the determination and skill and patience of him was painful like probing a bruise, but he couldn’t stop.

Finally, after more than a dozen precise hits in the same place, Sylvando stopped and turned to face him. “Dave, darling, I believe I’ve got it. How much do you trust me?”

That question was easy enough. “With my life, Sylv.”

Sylvando looked a bit startled at that, then pleased. “Well. Want to play the role of my lovely assistant for a day?”

“Hm. Do I have to do anything besides stand around showing off my natural beauty?” Dave asked, amused.

“Your beauty and maybe just a bit of your bravery. All I need you to do is hold a stick. Not too loose and not too tight. I’ll try to grab it and pull it out of your hand.”

Dave bit his tongue barely in time to keep himself from making a crude joke that was no longer particularly appropriate, and he nodded instead.

As he stood holding a long piece of driftwood at arm’s length, suddenly he was a little bit glad for how closely he’d watched Sylvando for the past hour. He’d known a scant handful of military men who’d tried to learn the whip for various reasons, and he’d rarely seen one of them get through a practice session without accidentally hitting themselves or someone else. He’d probably still have done this at Sylvando’s request without witnessing his expertise first, but he’d have been tensed up and ready to dodge.

The first swing went wide, and he felt a slight misgiving. “You missed.”

“Your hand is higher than the railing. I thought it’d be more polite to work on finding the range starting from the outside.”

“When you put it that way, I’m grateful for your good manners.”

The second swing hit the stick and wrapped around it. Sylvando tugged on it, and Dave reflexively tightened his grip and angled the stick toward Sylvando to try to break the hold. “Ah, sorry. I was supposed to let you disarm me, wasn’t I?”

Sylvando chuckled. “I think for the sake of showmanship, the most effective thing is if you hold tight until it’s wrapped around, because I don’t want to just knock it out of your hand, but then relax your grip a little so I don’t have to fight you to get it away from you.”

The third time went smoothly. The stick flew from Dave’s hand and landed at Sylvando’s feet.

“It worked!” Sylvando clapped his hands together around the grip of the whip, looking immensely pleased with himself.

“Haven’t you done this before?”

“Not this in particular. Paper tearing and candle snuffing, but not object retrieval. I always thought it would work nicely for a little skit, something comedic or adventuresome, but I hadn’t gotten past the theory of it. I’m hoping if I work at it if I might be able to catch the object in my other hand eventually.”

In the face of Sylvando’s earnest enthusiasm, Dave couldn’t help smiling as he accepted the stick again and continued playing assistant for attempt after attempt. For a little while, he managed to stay in the moment and enjoy the day, until a particularly vigorous pull sent the driftwood skittering across the deck, and he felt a little pulse of loss as it fell into the ocean. 

Sylvando only laughed. “And that’s why I brought driftwood for this. I think that concludes our practice for the day. Thanks for indulging me, Dave.” His smile was warm and familiar from a thousand other moments above deck, and it felt for a moment like the distance between them had never begun, and then as if perhaps it had always been there.

  


* * *

  


Cards.

“Five hands in a row, is it?”

“Guess I’m just lucky this afternoon.”

“I should make you…roll up your sleeves.” Dave caught himself in time to amend his original suggestion, which would have been “take off your shirt again”. Neither solution prevented Sylvando from cheating outrageously when he wanted to, but that wasn’t really the reason Dave had started proposing it in the first place.

He had a feeling Sylvando was well aware of what Dave had almost said, by the moment of hesitation and the quality of his answering smile. But Sylvando only said, “Oh, if I must,” rolled up a sleeve, and sprayed a dozen cards across the table. “Whoops! Where did those come from? How mysterious!”

Dave burst into genuine laughter at that, and Sylvando smiled at his reaction, smug as a cat.

  


* * *

  


The aftermath of a battle.

“What absolutely dreadful creatures.”

“Bet they taste like chicken.”

“Dave! That’s disgusting. Look how oozy the feathers are.”

“Well, sure, but we could just dunk it in the ocean a couple times. Here.” Dave picked up one of the bird monsters by the leg and held it out towards Sylvando, who danced backwards.

“No way, honey!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“Come on, you take it, and I’ll hold you over the side of the ship by the ankles so you can wash it off,” he teased. He took a couple more steps toward his companion, holding out the slimy creature, making Sylvando dodge around him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually touching that thing with your hand. What if it won’t wash off? Oh, darling, you’re bleeding,” he said, switching suddenly from playfully exaggerated distaste into genuine concern. “Hold still, let me see.”

“Hm? Oh. I didn’t notice.”

Sylvando produced a handkerchief and stepped closer. “Here, let me...Will you get rid of that thing, already? It’s probably swimming with disease and it’s going to infect your wound.”

Dave chuckled, but he tossed the creature over the railing and let Sylvando dab at his injury.

“Well, darling, I think you’re going to live, but let me try and make it a little more comfortable.” He put his hands on Dave’s upper arm, to either side of the small gouge, and closed his eyes while he worked at summoning his healing magic.

His touch and the nearness of him stung more than the wound.

“There. That’s the best I can do. Sorry it’ll take a while to kick in.” He gently applied his handkerchief again, keeping one hand on Dave’s shoulder, and Dave curled his hand into a fist to help keep himself from responding by reaching for Sylvando in return. His hand made a squelching noise, and he looked down and snorted at the slime coating his hand.

“I told you. Here. I’m not cleaning that up for you, but you can have a fresh handkerchief. Keep it. Burn it when you’re done.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Sylv. I’ll make sure and give it back after a nice rinse. Although I think this stuff might stain. Maybe I’d better let it soak in evenly before I wash it, so it keeps a nice solid color.”

“Stop!” Sylvando laughed again and gave him a shove, propelling himself away rather than moving Dave at all, and Dave smirked as he bent to clean the other creatures off the deck.

  


* * *

  


Sunset.

“Oi, Sylv, leave that. Come up on deck.”

“What is it?”

“Just come see.”

Sylvando obediently abandoned his mending and followed him up to stand beside him at the railing, then gave him a sidelong glance. “It is a lovely sunset, Dave, but usually I’m the one who points that out.”

“Not that. Keep an eye on the water. There!”

“Oh! That spray of water? What was that?”

“Dolphins. There’s a whole pod of them.”

“That was so close! Are they following us?”

“Aye, I think they’ve come to check us out.”

Sylvando leaned over the railing, alight with enthusiasm. “There, is that shadow below us...Ah!” The creature surfaced and blew another little spray of water towards them, and Sylvando laughed, delighted. “Right back at you, darling,” he said, and he blew a kiss down at the water.

They watched for a few minutes longer, catching fins popping out of the water, pacing the ship, until two of the dolphins leapt above the surface in unison, and Sylvando exclaimed, “Oh!” and he put a hand on Dave’s shoulder, and he left it there while the other dolphins joined in to the display. “Are they putting on a show for us? Maybe I should have prepared something myself. Oh, well, it’d be rude to try to upstage them now. Aren’t they magnificent?”

Dave dipped his head in a nod, hoping Sylvando would pick up that motion and not the way he tightened his hands on the railing to keep himself from leaning into that touch, or putting an arm around Sylvando’s waist, or making any other unspoken promises about what he wanted to do as soon as the current scene played out.

Sylvando seemed to realize what he was doing a long moment later, and he made a tiny noise of realization and lifted his hand away. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Dave didn’t trust himself to speak on the matter, so he ignored it. “I’ve only seen them come so close one other time,” he said instead.

“Thanks for bringing me up to see.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I do. It’s wonderful.”

Dave snuck another glance at Sylvando’s face and found a smile with an unexpected layer of wistfulness built into it.

  


* * *

  


Another sunny morning.

Dave half wished for gloomier weather to suit his mood. He’d hoped mere friendship with Sylvando would get easier with practice, but he’d had mixed results. He was still enjoying Sylvando’s company, and he hadn’t quite slipped up, and each night when he went to bed alone, he was almost able to convince himself that this new arrangement could be sufficient. But mornings were the worst, because his dreams didn’t respect Sylvando’s decision whatsoever, and he always woke up convinced that Sylvando was there in his bed. Discovering otherwise felt like losing him all over again, every time.

“Dave, I spotted a rip in the sail after that last fight. I think I can do a quick fix if I just stand on your shoulders.”

A few minutes later, Sylvando held a needle and thread in his mouth, stepped behind Dave, put his hands on Dave's shoulders, and boosted himself up.

Unfair that the pressure of Sylvando's feet, of all things, could make him feel like this. Ridiculous that he wanted to lean his head to the side, to press his mouth against an ankle. Dave’s hands twitched, but he stopped himself before he reached all the way up to touch Sylvando’s legs. He knew, and Sylvando knew he knew, that Sylvando’s balance was entirely equal to standing up there however long he felt like it, and Dave’s interference would only make it more challenging.

“There. Good as new. Give me a hand down, darling.”

Dave obediently reached up an arm and let Sylvando shift his weight to their clasped hands so he could swing himself down. 

Sylvando’s hand lingered on his for a moment. “Sometimes I forget how strong you are. Anyone else would give me both hands for that.” He pressed his hand down on Dave’s for a moment with a teasing smile, then withdrew, but it felt like a caress, and for a moment, Dave regretted his own ability to wear an invisible mask in place of the actual one. If he’d leaked a little more of what he was feeling, maybe Sylvando would keep a little more distance, and this wouldn’t be so blasted difficult.

  


* * *

  


Anchored next to the coast.

“There you are, darling. We’re early enough, I thought we could have our usual little drink before I have to go.”

“Sylv, no. Not this time.” Dave put a hand over the top of the glass to block him from pouring.

“No? What’s wrong?”

“Just don’t think I ought to get tossed right now.”

“Dave, I’ve seen how many drinks you can put away. You wouldn’t actually notice one glass. Are you all right?” Sylvando peered at him with a tiny frown.

“I’m fine, Sylv.” Dave scavenged up a reassuring smile from somewhere.

“Dave…Are you sure?”

He might have made it through, except Sylvando put a hand on his wrist, and it sparked a wave of longing, and it hurt, and it knocked the smile off his face.

“Dave. Talk to me. Please. Whatever else, you’re still my best friend, and I love you.”

He felt that like a blow, and he took a deep breath to try to keep calm. “Sylv. The thing I want most is for you to be happy. I’m willing to do whatever it takes so that can happen.”

“Dave.” Sylvando gave him a trace of a smile and a hint of a frown.

“But you make it hard to let you go. You know what it does to me when you touch me.”

Sylvando looked down at his hand on Dave’s arm, but he didn’t take it away. “I’m not sure if I do,” he said.

Dave’s resolve crumpled, then, in a mix of frustration and desire and hurt and love. He recklessly reached out, curled one hand over Sylvando’s shoulder and slid it around the back of his neck, the other hand around his hip, thumb moving over the hipbone in the way he knew Sylvando liked.

“It makes me want you, like it always has," he said, feeling his voice coming out low and rough. "And I already want you all the time. I want you so much it hurts. I want you more than I want anything else, except for how much I want you to be happy.”

Sylvando stared at him, wide-eyed and motionless. Dave continued very softly. “It feels backwards. That the best way to show you how much I love you is to offer not to do this. It still feels like I should take you to bed and show you that way.”

Sylvando made a small noise, then, one that he usually made with a lot less distance between them, and the remnants of Dave's self-restraint shredded a little further. He stepped closer. “Tell me to let go of you, Sylv. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want this ever again.” He leaned in slowly, trying to give him time to pull away, but he made it close enough to touch Sylvando’s neck with his lips, then graze the skin with his teeth.

Then Sylvando groaned and put his hands on either side of Dave’s face to push his head away, but Dave didn’t have time to be disappointed before Sylvando’s mouth was on his, Sylvando’s body pressed against his, Sylvando’s fingers tangling in his hair, Sylvando’s hips in his hands, and then Sylvando’s legs wrapped around his waist so Dave could carry him out of the room and stumble down the hall to find a bed.

  


* * *

  


Laying in bed.

Dave felt the first pulse of guilt surface past the contentment a moment before he discovered the tears trickling over his chest.

“Oh, Sylv. I’m sorry. I’m a selfish ass.”

Sylvando shook his head against Dave’s shoulder. “You’re not. I am. I hurt you, didn’t I? And I’m hurting her, too, now.”

“You could not tell her. Or maybe she’ll forgive you. This could be the last time we do this,” he added, although saying so felt like cutting his own heart out.

“No. No, it won’t be.” Sylvando lifted his head. “I don’t want it to be. I did want a life with her, but I never wanted to give you up. Why didn’t you say anything, Dave? You kept pushing me to be with her. I thought you didn’t care if we kept this or not. I thought you were done with me.”

“Sylv...How are you going to find your happily ever after, your wife and kids, if I’m in the way? Of course you’re not going to find a serious partner who’s going to share you with me.”

“Of course? Dave, I’ve met people who do it that way. Not a lot of them, but some. I’d have looked harder, if I knew you’d want that.”

“Oh.” Dave swallowed. “I’d like that.”

Sylvando gave him a little smile and shifted to kiss him, softer and sweeter than most of what passed between them. Then he pulled back and made another face, something that started out with a smile and melted into misery.

"Dave?" he said in a small voice. "I promise I'm going to be happy about us, but...I'm not going to lie to her, and she's not going to forgive me. So I just found out I'm going to lose a woman I love, and I deserve it. I'm a selfish ass again for asking you, but can I stay here for a little while while I think about her?"

"Anything you need, Sylv."

Sylvando nodded and closed his eyes, dislodging fresh tears, and he tucked his face back against Dave's shoulder. Dave felt helpless until he remembered the way Sylvando comforted him on the rare occasions he indulged in his own grief. Feeling clumsy, he tried running a hand over Sylvando's back, then smoothing his hair.

“I keep trying to remember whether I actually told her outright that I wouldn’t do this. I don’t think I did, not in so many words. Not that it should matter, because I certainly tried to lead her to believe I wouldn’t, which is a feather’s thickness away from giving my word. But I guess somewhere inside of me is a ten year old who thinks the letter of the rule matters more than the spirit of it.”

"Sylv...Blame me. I shouldn't have pushed you, not this way."

"No. It's not your job to keep my almost-promises. I just…I thought I was a better gentleman than this. But maybe it's not the gentleman in me that finds you irresistible." He traced a finger over one of Dave's scars, and sighed. "Why am I so complicated? I want too many things."

"I don't know, Sylv, but I can't help being glad that one of the things is me. And I hope you can find the rest. You deserve everything good, Sylv."

"Hm. Tell me that some other day, love."

"All right."

"But...Thank you, Dave." He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I guess I need to hit the road. As they say, the show must go on, and I'm expected. At least I can keep one promise this week."

"Will you be okay?"

"I think I know how to put on a happy face when I need to. It's not going to be the best week, but what else can I do besides acknowledge what I've done and move forward?" He gave Dave an odd look. "I didn't realize it, but you're good at wearing a mask without the mask, too, aren't you?"

"I guess I haven't needed either kind with you for a long time, before all this."

"I'm sorry, Dave. I hope I don't make you feel like you need to put on an act again for me anytime soon."

"Maybe if I don't, I'll cause you less trouble."

Sylvando gave him a little smile, still weighted with sadness, but he said, "You deserve good things, too, Dave. Please don't give up on what you want, whether that's me or anything else."

“It’ll always be you, Sylv.”

“In that case...well, I don’t feel like my word’s worth very much at the moment, so I’ll only say that I don’t plan to make any more promises that ignore the fact that I love you.”

Dave sat up and hesitantly pulled Sylvando into an embrace. “Sylv. I don’t really say it, do I? I love you too.”

This seemed to be the right thing to do, because Sylvando relaxed against him. “I missed you,” he said. “I really am glad to have this with you again.”

“Me too, Sylv. More than I can say.”

  


* * *

  


On deck, alone, but not lonely.

Dave stood at the railing, watching Sylvando watch him from the shore for a long moment, before Sylvando finally blew him a kiss. Finding no one else in sight, Dave decided to bend his usual policy of decorum in public places this once, and he held up a hand in return, then closed his fingers, miming catching the kiss. Sylvando pressed a hand over his heart for a moment, then waved, hefted his pack, and turned down the road.

When Dave turned away to work the ship and proceed with his own trading mission, letting the person he loved out of his sight, he still felt better than he had in weeks. He hated seeing Sylvando hurting, and he still felt guilty for his part in making Sylvando feel guilty. But the guilt was eclipsed by a joyful relief in the notion that Sylvando would be back again, and that Dave would still be allowed to touch him, to love him, to keep a part of him forever.


End file.
